


ruin my life

by societysgot



Category: The Society (TV 2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Gryffindor!Cassandra, Harry Potter AU, Slytherin!Harry, slowburn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:40:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26639710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/societysgot/pseuds/societysgot
Summary: If there's one thing the students of Hogwarts know, it's that Harry Bingham and Cassandra Pressman arede factoenemies.Always have been. Always will be.—or a harry potter au, showcasing harry and cassandra's relationship from first to seventh year.
Relationships: Harry Bingham/Cassandra Pressman
Comments: 6
Kudos: 41





	ruin my life

**Author's Note:**

> so i'm not really sure what this is but turns out i have an extensive amount of harry potter knowledge (due to it being literally the pinnacle of my childhood) and the idea came to me really quickly so here you go!
> 
> \- also some quick background, i was going to make cassandra a ravenclaw but then i remembered when she stood up to campbell in the church when he held that gun (!!!) to her head and i thought - this gal is a brave bitch, who also radiates chaotic good energy so gryffindor all the way!! she's very similar to hermione tbh
> 
> \- their dynamic is very much like the show obviously, but i definitely drew inspiration from dramione/romione too!
> 
> anyway, i hope you guys enjoy. any kudos/comments would be greatly appreciated <3

**_ First Year _ **

The first time Cassandra Pressman met Harry Bingham, was on the Hogwarts Express.

The small blonde girl had been making her way down the train — her fringe framing her dainty little face, as she peered shyly through the windows of each compartment. It wasn't until she made it to the third carriage, that she managed to locate one which was slightly less full than the others.

There were two dark haired boys seated inside — who both looked to be about the same age as her. Tentatively, she knocked on the window, and the boy closest to the door waved her in with a warm smile.

She sat down opposite before introducing herself, with a small grin.

"I'm Gareth — but you can call me Grizz, if you want," The boy opposite replied, reaching out to shake her hand.

But the boy to his right, looked her up and down before turning his gaze back to the window without saying a word. A little affronted, Cassandra turned her attention back to Grizz.

The two of them spoke for most of the journey — he told her all about himself and his life. All of which was incredibly interesting to her — especially considering the only knowledge Cassandra had of the wizarding world, was what she had managed to find out in books.

He told her about his pet owl, Nigel, and how his older brother had spent the summer teaching him how to play quidditch (she was yet to find out what that was), and how his family owned a little shop in Diagon Alley that sold all kinds of weird and wonderful things.

"What do your parents do?" Grizz finally asked, tucking into a chocolate frog.

When it jumped out of the wrapper before he properly got a hold of it, the blonde clapped her hands excitedly. (And she couldn't help but notice the boy in the corner roll his eyes.)

"Well, my parents aren't wizards — my mom works as a lawyer, and my dad's a doctor," She explained, suddenly wishing she had more interesting stories to tell.

Grizz nodded, opening his mouth to respond but to her surprise, it wasn't him who spoke.

"Wait — your parents are muggles?"

The boy next to the window was looking at her with interest all of a sudden, his dark eyes almost hidden by the messy curls that framed his face.

It was the first thing he had said since she entered the compartment.

"Yes, they are," She replied, plainly.

He was staring at her now, a look of surprise laced through his features.

"So, you've been living with muggles your entire life?" He asked, with a cold laugh.

Cassandra's eyes narrowed on him, and she suddenly felt very self-conscious.

"Yeah, I have. What's wrong with that?" She questioned, raising her eyebrows.

The boy gave her a look, putting his hands up defensively.

"Nothing, I guess. Just...haven't met many muggleborns, that's all," He said with a shrug, but the glint in his eye told her there was more to it, and that made her nervous.

"Wait, I know you!" Grizz burst out suddenly, turning to the boy, "Your dad works for the Minister, doesn't he?"

"The Minister for Magic?" Cassandra quickly interjected, her eyes flitting between the two boys.

"Yeah — the Binghams! You're from that long line of Slytherins, aren't you?"

"You could say that," The boy said, lazily, "I'm Harry. Eighth generation Slytherin."

"So, you're definitely getting sorted into Slytherin?" Grizz asked, curiously.

"Well, I bloody hope so. If not, my parents will disinherit me," Harry said, looking amused, "Besides, Slytherin's the only house that matters anyway."

He fixed his gaze back on Cassandra, leaning backwards in his seat with a smug smile. The blonde sat up straighter, as a result, flicking her hair behind her shoulder. His arrogance was almost suffocating, she thought — even at age eleven.

"So, what about you, princess? Do you even know the names of all the houses?" He asked, in a mocking tone and Cassandra's smile vanished immediately.

Luckily, they were told to change into their robes and prepare for their arrival not long after that — so, Cassandra never got the chance to respond. Which in hindsight, was probably for the best.

The sorting ceremony that began as soon as they had arrived at the castle, had been quite the experience as well. And when the little hat shouted Gryffindor, Cassandra made her way over to the long table in the middle of the Great Hall, adorned with red and gold — the atmosphere a lot warmer than that of the Slytherin table.

Harry's name was called not long after her, and just like he had predicted, he was sorted into Slytherin. At least his family could breathe a sigh of relief now, Cassandra thought. As he sat down, they locked eyes from across the room. He sent her nasty look and she frowned in response, before averting her eyes.

And it was decided then and there. Cassandra Pressman did not like Harry Bingham.

* * *

**_ Second Year _ **

"Why is your sister so much cooler than you?" A voice from behind her, announced loudly.

Cassandra rolled her eyes, refusing to turn around. She would recognise that stupid, arrogant voice anywhere. Even at just twelve years old he was the single most contemptible person she'd ever met. (Except for maybe Professor Snape.)

"I mean, she likes quidditch, she's in Slytherin, she's not a complete control freak...," He continued from a few paces behind her, earning him an angry look from Madame Pince, the librarian.

The blonde ignored him until he stepped into her line of view. His mouth curled into a smirk, as he stared down at her.

It was a warm Tuesday afternoon, and the rays of sunlight were pouring through the tall library windows. The room was full of anxious students cramming in last minute study, due to the mid year exams already being under way. But Harry seemed relatively calm in comparison.

Cassandra shifted in her seat, impatiently.

"Are you sure you two are related?"

The blonde sucked in a breath. He always knew how to hit a nerve. And she hated it.

As if Cassandra wasn't painfully aware of how quickly Allie had settled in at Hogwarts — much faster than she had the previous year.

"Quite sure," She said, bristling as she began flipping through the pages of her Charms textbook, avoiding his gaze.

But to her absolute horror, Harry pulled up a chair and sat down, dumping his books lazily next to hers.

"Maybe you two should get one of those muggle tests — you know the ones, what are they called? NDA? Just to be sure."

"It's called a DNA test, genius," She snapped, without looking up, "And that won't be necessary."

Harry sat back in his chair, an amused smile toying at his lips.

"And if you're going to keep talking, can you please go somewhere else?" She asked, frustratedly, "The Charms exam is in less than two days and unlike _some_ people, I'd rather not fail."

"What — you think I'm gonna fail?"

"To be frank, I don't really care what you do."

"So, you won't care when I beat you out for the top mark?"

"That's never going to happen."

"Wait and see, Pressman. Wait and see."

Well, Cassandra did wait and see and she found that unfortunately for her, she had in fact underestimated him. Much to her surprise, they both tied as the top students of their year level.

And that just wouldn't do. For either of them. She could see it in his eyes when the results were announced, both of them equally bewildered that they hadn't managed to beat the other.

And that mark alone was enough to cement their rivalry for years to come.

* * *

_ **Third Year** _

"Cassandra?"

The blonde quickly tucked the golden necklace back under her shirt, and brushed her fringe out of her eyes. They were outside Hagrid's hut, having just finished yet another yawn-inducing class.

(She wondered whether Hagrid was ever going to realise that watching flobberworms slowly grow into even bigger flobberworms was quite possibly the most boring activity ever assigned to a class. Even worse than what they did in divination — and Cassandra _hated_ divination.)

The students were milling about, picking up their books, and shielding themselves from the wind. The breeze was cold, the sun was low in the sky and Harry Bingham was making a b-line directly towards her. Great.

"What the hell?" He snapped as soon as he was close enough.

"Hello to you too, Harry," Cassandra replied, as she trudged with the rest of the students back towards the castle — Harry was a few feet behind, struggling to keep up.

"How did you do that?"

The blonde turned to look at him, eyebrows raised. "Do what?"

"I was in the middle of telling you that sucking up to Hagrid won't get you extra marks — and then you just disappeared," He stated breathlessly, as he finally fell instep beside her.

"I don't understand," She said, feigning ignorance, though she could still feel the cold metal of the time turner bouncing against her chest, under her shirt as she walked.

"You were right next to me — and now you're here? It doesn't make sense!"

Harry looked more flustered than she'd ever seen him — his dark curls falling messily in his face. He was staring at her, eyes wide with curiousity.

"You keeping tabs on me or something, Harry?" The blonde quipped, as she continued walking at a moderate speed, expecting him to leave her be.

But he was at her heels within seconds, stepping further into her personal space as she reached the steps leading up the entrance of the castle.

"I thought you were taking that lame Ancient Runes subject?" He pressed, almost with a sense of urgency.

"I _am_ taking that lame Ancient Runes subject. Which isn't at all lame, by the way—"

Harry's hand closed over her wrist and pulled her to a halt, his gaze fixed intently on her, as if trying to read her.

"But Ancient Runes and Care of Magical Creatures run at the same time," He was watching her sceptically, "You'd have to be in two places at once?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Harry," Cassandra said with a laugh, pulling her hand out of his grip and walking backwards a few paces, "How can anyone be in two places at once?"

* * *

_** Fourth Year ** _

"You were supposed to _finely_ chop the Dandelion roots," Cassandra said loudly, as she meticulously stirred the contents of the cauldron, "Not whatever _you_ just did."

Harry let out a frustrated sigh beside her, leaning down to get a better look at the roots on the bench in front of them.

"They look fine to me, Pressman," He said, gruffly, tipping them into the cauldron before Cassandra could object.

Whoever thought making Harry and Cassandra potions partners (for an entire semester, she might add) was a good idea — was seriously deluded. Their feud was already known by the majority of the student body and the teachers too — so, how they ended up in this unfortunate situation was beyond them.

They had spent the first few weeks arguing about everything under the sun, their grades suffering majorly as a result. Their first potion had exploded into a puff of lilac smoke, shards of their cauldron flying off in every direction — (Cassandra had been too busy chastising Harry for slacking off to notice that they had added far too much boomslang skin.)

And all the classes after that seemed to follow a similar route — the worst being in the third week, when the contents of one particular potion singed off half of Harry's left eyebrow.

("I can't go around without an eyebrow," Harry shrieked, dramatically, using his hand to cover his eye, "That's like walking around without a leg!"

"It's not that big of a deal," The blonde called after him, stifling a laugh into the palm of her hand.

"Easy for you to say — I don't see you missing half an eyebrow!"

Cassandra bit her lip to stop herself from smiling. Harry really was at his _most_ entertaining when he was agitated.

"Well, don't blame me. You're the one who read the instructions wrong," She had said teasingly, before he stormed out of the classroom.)

The blonde leaned over the cauldron to see if the Dandelion roots he had just added were dissolving properly. She watched the potion gradually fade into a dark blue colour and breathed a sigh of relief. They hadn't messed anything up. (At least, not yet.)

When she looked up at Harry, he was measuring Syrup of Hellbore, talking with his friend Jason at the table next to theirs.

There was an abnormally loud chatter about the room, despite Snape's attempts to keep them silent. But it wasn't at all surprising. Ever since the announcement of the Yule Ball, it seemed to be the only thing that anyone could talk about.

Harry eventually caught her watching him and raised his eyebrows, looking amused.

"You wanna know who I'm taking to the Yule Ball, don't you," He stated, with a satisfied smile and the blonde rolled her eyes.

"I really couldn't care less—"

"I'm taking Lexie."

"Good for you," She replied, turning her attention back to the dusty pink fumes that their cauldron was emitting at the present moment.

"Don't be sad about not having a date, Pressman," He continued, his voice dripping in sarcasm, "I'll save you a dance."

Cassandra scoffed next to him.

"I have a date. But thanks for your kindness."

Harry raised eyebrows at that, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"You — have a date? To the ball?"

"Yeah, I do," The blonde said, reading through the instructions for the final time.

"Alright, who is it then?"

"Luke."

Harry's eyes widened in disbelief, before he let out a loud laugh. Cassandra tilted her head to the side, in annoyance.

"Luke as in Luke Holbrook? Gryffindor Seeker Luke? That Luke?"

"That's the one," Cassandra said through gritted teeth, just as Snape approached them to check the contents of their cauldron.

"Well, I did not expect that," Harry muttered under his breath, and Cassandra resisted the urge to slap him.

They stood side by side, their arms bumping together every so often, as they awaited Snape's approval. After a while, he finally looked up at them, seemingly satisfied with their work. He gave them permission to leave with a curt nod.

"Don't act so surprised, Harry," Cassandra said, cheerfully packing up her things, "Just because _you_ didn't notice that I'm a girl, doesn't mean other people haven't."

He opened his mouth in shock. "I never said I didn't notice that—"

But before he could finish, she gestured towards the bench behind him — that he was standing a _little_ too close to.

"Your robe is on fire by the way," She said, smiling sweetly before turning on her heel and leaving him to flail about trying to stamp out the flames.

* * *

_** Fifth Year ** _

"If you stopped staring at your reflection in that trophy and started cleaning it, then we might actually get out of here before nightfall."

She heard Harry let out a low laugh behind her.

"Very funny."

They had been in the trophy room for over an hour already, polishing the silver without magic — probably Harry's worst nightmare.

Cassandra didn't mind it as much though. It was one of her chores at home after all, since they still weren't allowed to perform magic outside Hogwarts.

But polishing old trophies in a dingy room with her arch nemesis at five o'clock on a Sunday was not her idea of fun. She didn't know how they had both managed to get detention the same week of all weeks (it seemed the odds were never in their favour). Then again, Harry often received detention so perhaps it would've been more strange if he wasn't there.

He was sitting with his back to her, working at a snail pace (she could kill him — she really could), and they'd been working in silence for some time now — which was probably better for their sanity in all honesty. Any conversation they had, didn't seem to be able to remain civil for longer than a few minutes anyway.

"So, why are you here?" He suddenly asked, effectively breaking the silence.

(And their record for the-longest-time-spent-together-without-an-argument-ensuing.)

Harry turned around to face her, leaving the trophy abandoned next to him on the ground. She stared at him for a moment before continuing with her polishing.

"It's none of your business."

"None of my business? You're a prefect," He stated, with a smug smile, "And I bet you're gunning for Head Girl too — so spill, princess. What did you do?"

"You're a prefect too, in case you forgot," The blonde said, idly turning her back on him, "I could ask you the same thing."

"Yeah, but I asked you first."

He stared at her, the two practically sizing each other up, before Cassandra let out a sigh.

"Fine," She said tiredly, realising he wasn't going to crack first, "I spoke out of turn in class and now I'm here. Happy?"

"Well, that was underwhelming," Harry commented, grimly, "Which professor?"

"Snape," She said, stiffly, "And yes, I'm aware all you Slytherins are up his ass or something, but he was out of line."

Harry's face broke into a small smile. If he was actually capable of expressing human emotion, Cassandra might have even thought he looked impressed.

"Pretty sure no one likes Snape, Cass," He said, with a laugh, "Even I would've enjoyed seeing you knock that greasy-haired bat down a peg or two. Especially, after he failed us for that one potion last year."

"Well, I appreciate that."

They worked in silence for a moment, Cassandra suppressing a grin. He was almost tolerable when he wasn't being a complete ass.

"What did you do?" She finally asked him, lining up their polished trophies side by side with a look of satisfaction.

"Nothing really — I just got caught in the Slytherin girls dormitory again."

"What — how did you even get in there? I thought there were spells that—"

"I have my ways," He was smirking at her now.

"Wow," Cassandra shook her head, incredulously, "Those poor girls."

"You jealous, Pressman?"

"Not even a little."

"You kind of sound like you are."

"Get over yourself, Harry."

"What, so you've never thought about it?"

"Thought about what—"

He suddenly leaned forward brushing a loose strand of hair out of her eyes, and placing it neatly behind her ear.

"Not even once?"

She stood frozen, too shocked at his boldness to recoil away from his touch. His hand lingered near her face for a moment, before he leant back and Cassandra noticed her heart thumping rapidly beneath her rib cage.

He was doing that annoyingly, charming smile — the one that seemed to charm all the girls in their year — even some in the years below.

And yes, Cassandra wasn't blind. He was infuriatingly good looking. Even, she could admit that. And maybe if he had half a soul, she would give him the time of day. But today day was not that day. She would be damned before she let herself be charmed by Harry fucking Bingham.

"No. Never," Cassandra stated confidently, sitting up a little straighter.

But she barely had time to turn around before he stepped behind her, reaching up for the nearest trophy and leaning in close — his breathe low and hot against her ear.

"Liar."

The blonde ignored the way the hairs on her skin pricked up at the closeness. Asshole. 

* * *

**_Sixth Year_ **

Cassandra had drunken a little too much fire whiskey — she knew that.

And she honestly couldn't understand how Slughorn had managed to allow underage students to drink at his Christmas party. It seemed like a disaster waiting to happen in her opinion, but nevertheless, when another drinks tray floated past her, she felt herself reaching for another.

It had been a long week after all — their professors had really been piling on the workload leading up to the Christmas break, and Cassandra had been spending any free time she had in the library helping Allie cram for her OWLs.

And then, there was the headache that seemed to come and go in the shape of Harry Bingham. In class. In the corridors. On the grounds. Just about everywhere.

Of course, he was here tonight too. Which wasn't surprising. He had been one of the first slug club members anyway — in fact they'd both been asked to join at the same time (much to Harry's disgust and Cassandra's satisfaction).

He was wearing dark dress robes, and his hair was neater than usual — as if someone had run a comb through it, or introduced him to muggle hair gel. Either way, he looked dare she say, handsome. (Not that she would _ever_ in her right mind admit that, even in her slightly tipsy state.)

"You look good tonight," He had said, sidling up to her, a few hours into the evening, drink in hand.

Cassandra rolled her eyes, half turned away from him. She could tell he was about as tipsy as she was. And somehow, she thought that being alone with him at the present moment, was not a good idea. Yet, she still turned around to face him, tilting her head up to get a good look.

"You don't look so bad, yourself," She commented, the words leaving her mouth before she could stop herself. 

And she wasn't one to pay Harry Bingham compliments. Ever. In fact, she didn't know what would have possessed her to say such a thing. It must have been the fire whiskey. _Definitely_ , the fire whiskey, she thought. 

His face broke out into a smile at her words, and she couldn't help but notice the way his eyes wondered up and down her body, before settling back on her face. The blonde ran a hand through her hair, desperately trying to conceal the heat that was rushing to her cheeks.

(And if her heart was beating erratically all of a sudden, it was _totally_ a coincidence). 

"Where's your date?" She slurred, hiccuping slightly as she took another sip of her drink and looked around the room.

"She didn't want to come."

Cassandra raised her eyebrows at him. He shrugged, before placing his empty glass on a tray floating by.

"Kelly and I broke up."

"Oh, you mean that love potion you gave her finally wore off? Thank god," Cassandra said, pouting at him.

"I appreciate your sympathy — thank you," He replied, half glaring at her.

"I'm just celebrating on Kelly's behalf."

"Okay, you know, you don't get to judge my relationships. _You_ didn't even bring a date," He suddenly said, accusingly.

"I'm just saying—"

"Come to think of it, I don't even know why you're here."

"Excuse me?" The blonde spluttered, practically fuming, "I have just as much right to be here as you do."

Harry opened his mouth to retort but Cassandra downed her drink and continued before he could.

" _More_ probably, considering I got in here based on my merits and not my father's name."

Harry's head shot up at that, his smirk varnishing as soon as it arrived.

"That is bullshit and you know it," He all but growled, "I worked hard to get here, Pressman."

"Whatever," She said, with a scowl, before turning away from him and moving towards the door.

"I did, okay? Stop acting like you're better than me."

"I'm _not_ acting like I'm better than you," Cassandra snapped, weaving her way through the clusters of students, "You're the one who said I didn't deserve to be here."

"I did not say that," He said, trailing behind her as they reached the main arch way, leading out of Slughorn's office.

"You may as well have said that," She bit back, not slowing down her pace even a little.

"You're literally putting words into my mouth."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are — god, can you never admit that you're wrong?"

"Shut up, Harry."

"What — it's true, just admit it."

She slowed to a stop near an alcove at the end of the corridor, Cassandra's patience wearing thin as the moonlight washed over their faces. And the multitude of drinks she'd had, were really starting to catch up with her. 

"God, you know, you're infuriating," She seethed, pressing her index finger into the middle of his chest as her blonde waves bounced messily around her face.

Harry leaned closer, his eyes darkening ever so slightly. "Oh, I'm infuriating?"

"Yes, you are."

"Well, you wanna know what you are?"

He took a step forward, his face dangerously close to hers.

"What?" She raised her eyebrows in challenge, "Enlighten me."

"You are—"

He didn't even finish the sentence before his lips came crashing down onto hers. Her arms immediately flew around his neck almost of her own volition, pulling him harder against her, as his tongue slipped into her mouth. She groaned loudly, running a hand through his tussled curls — every sensible thought having completely evaporated from her brain apparently.

The kiss was rough and desperate and yet still somehow tender — it was everything she had imagined kissing Harry Bingham would be. (Not that she'd ever imagined that. Obviously.)

She had never been kissed like this. _Ever_. And she was convinced her lips were already bruising but—

"We shouldn't do this," She muttered, breathlessly against his mouth after a moment.

His body heat was encircling her completely and she could still taste the alcohol on his tongue. With her mind in a daze — all she could _see_ and _think_ and _feel_ — was him.

"Yeah, we really shouldn't," Harry whispered in a low voice, before pressing a sloppy kiss against her neck.

They stared at each other for a moment, his eyes roaming over her face — and then back to her lips. She tilted her head up in anticipation, a mischievous glint in her eye.

And that was all the indication he needed to push her up against the wall behind them, their mouths colliding once more.

* * *

_ **Seventh Year** _

It was a little after six o'clock when Cassandra bustled into the prefect's bathroom on the fourth floor.

"Where the hell have you been?" Harry all but yelped, the second he saw her.

He was standing a few feet away, his shirt unbuttoned slightly, revealing the long silver chain that always hung from his neck. He looked almost regal in the moonlight, despite the mess of curls framing his face.

The prefect's bathroom had become their regular meeting place — pretty much since the beginning of the school year, when they realised that hooking up in little alcoves and broom cupboards just wouldn't do it for them anymore.

Cassandra fluffed out a few apologies, dropping her bag to the ground and taking off her outer robes.

"I have been here for over thirty minutes!" He said, with a look of frustration, "I'm pretty sure some fourth year Hufflepuff thinks I have a bladder problem now and Myrtle has been driving me absolutely crazy—"

The blonde pulled him downwards by the collar of his shirt, cutting him off with a long, hard kiss. Their mouths found a rhythm almost straight away, as he pulled her closer, smiling against her lips. When they broke apart, he met her gaze, looking bashful and — slightly breathless.

"Am I forgiven now?" The blonde hooked her arms around his neck, playing with the curls at the nape of his neck.

Harry rolled his eyes, pressing his forehead against hers. The blonde sighed heavily, closing her eyes and leaning into him.

Seventh Year had been chaotic since the very start — with the two of them obtaining leadership positions and with their NEWTS coming up in less than a few months. So, they relished in whatever time they had together.

Because somehow, of all the people at Hogwarts, Harry Bingham was the one she wanted to be around. All the time. As incredibly astonishing as that was. He was the boy who had pushed her buttons since she was just eleven years old — and yet now, she couldn't imagine life without him.

Not that anyone knew they were together. They had decided pretty early on that keeping their relationship a secret was the best way to go. The rumour mill at Hogwarts was a nasty one, and neither one of them wanted to be at the centre of that.

"If we got caught, do you think we'd be expelled?" She asked later, resting her head on his shoulder, as the last of the soap suds in the bath began to disappear.

She was absentmindedly running her fingers over his bare chest, tracing circles on his skin, here and there.

Harry sat up slightly, tilting his head forward to look at her, droplets of water from his curls, flicking onto her face.

"If the Head boy and Head girl got caught fucking in the prefect's bathroom, you mean?" He asked, raising his eyebrows in amusement, "Oh definitely."

"Well, I'm sure your richass dad could help us out, if it came to that," She said, with a smirk, pressing a kiss to his jaw.

"Please do not mention my dad right now, good god," Harry groaned, before he splashed water on the blonde, and she retaliated by smothering his face with bubbles.

They made their way back towards the Great Hall not long after, Harry reaching for Cassandra's hand almost straight away out of instinct. She would've shrugged him off, but they were in a pretty secluded corridor and she seriously doubted anyone would see—

"Hey — Harry! Cassandra! " A voice suddenly called out from behind them.

The two of them practically leapt apart at the sound, wheeling around to find the source of the voice.

Grizz and Jason were standing a few feet away, looking incredibly amused. Cassandra could already feel her cheeks burning. Harry's gaze flitted over to her for a second before he looked away.

"It's alright guys — you can hold hands," Clark said, laughing, "It's not like we don't know."

"What are you talking about?" Harry questioned, attempting nonchalance.

"That you guys are together."

"What? No, we're not," They both chimed in at exactly same time.

Their eyes locked, and Cassandra knew the colour in her cheeks was quickly transitioning from crimson to magenta.

"Literally everyone knows," Grizz had his arms crossed in front of his chest, clearly enjoying this.

"Wait, but—"

"You guys are so obvious," He said, "Like, _so_ obvious. Pretty sure the entire school knows."

"They do?"

"Yeah," Clarke nodded, before patting Grizz on the arm, "We'll leave you two kids alone then."

As they turned the corner and out of sight, Cassandra stood very still for a moment, before Harry burst out laughing. He moved towards her, grabbing her by the hand and pulling her against him.

"Well, so much for keeping us a secret," The blonde murmured into his chest, with a smile.

"You know, they must've seen you eyeballing me all the time," Harry teased, and Cassandra slapped him on the arm.

"Please, like I don't catch you staring at me in every class," She retorted, stepping onto her tiptoes and pressing a light kiss to his lips.

She buried her head into his neck, as he wrapped an arm around her.

"Wait — do you reckon they know we fuck in the prefect's bathroom?" He whispered, after a moment.

The two shared a look of sheer terror.

"God, I hope not."


End file.
